My younger cousin had just turned 18 a month before our story begins. It's August, we're both guys, and he's having trouble at home -- getting in trouble with drugs and alcohol. At the time, I was 23 and had a boring Monday through Friday, 9:00 to 5:00 office job and a one-bedroom apartment, no girlfriend and average social life; no pets, and no extraordinary commitments outside of work. My aunt and uncle were at their wits' end and quickly running out of options. No one else in my family wanted anything to do with my cousin, but they also had a lot more to lose if they couldn't manage to keep him in line; no one wanted to take responsibility for him, so I stepped up and offered, but made it very clear that I was not in a position to be able to do so financially. Finances were not a problem for my aunt and uncle. As far as they were concerned, it wasn't their precious baby boy that was the problem, it was the company that he was keeping. Surely, a change of scenery is all that he needed -- he had simply fallen in with the wrong crowd. Yeah, okay.
My cousin was still in high school, about to start his senior year, and was already upset that he wasn't going to graduate with his friends. We grew up together, seeing each other every summer and winter break so we weren't complete strangers moving in together, but I knew it was going to be a challenge getting him to look at the bright side and to act right. His parents did all the legwork finding a school that would accept a transfer so close to the beginning of the school year and close enough to where I work that it wouldn't be too much of an imposition to me. There's no way two guys could live in the one-bedroom apartment I was in. They found a two-bedroom, two-bathroom "luxury" apartment within the school district and set very generous terms. They paid 75% of rent, all the utilities, and sent money for groceries and incidentals. They also sent my cousin a small allowance for things like clothing, food, and gas because of course they bought him a car once he got out here.
The whole situation was pretty cool because I got to save a lot of money. Granted, I'm basically a glorified babysitter, but I got to hang out with my cousin all the time.
His parents warn me not to give him a dime outside of what they're sending him because the moment I do, he's going to use it to go out and score. They also make it very clear that I'm to call them the moment he ever appears intoxicated or starts acting out at school by either getting into fights or his grades start to fall. Aside from that, I'm just to keep an eye on him and encourage him to join extra-curriculars, but not hover.
They all flew out, signed the lease for the apartment, and bought furniture, and a few other things to make it as comfortable as possible. They got everything settled with the school district while I turned in the keys to my old apartment and moved my stuff in and the circumstances were a little awkward, but I tried to make the best of it. My cousin was looking a little rough. He looked like he was in withdrawal and just looking for a fix. My aunt and uncle were on a return flight the next day, but before they left, they made it very clear not to keep any alcohol or "other substances" in the apartment.
My aunt and uncle head out, wish me luck, tell me to call any time, no matter what, and thank me.
My cousin still had about three weeks before school begins so we order a pizza, set up his XBOX (because of course they bought him an XBOX) and I told him I took the rest of the week off to help him get settled. Really, it was so I could keep an eye on him and to make sure he didn't run off and sell his XBOX so he could score. I asked him to fill me in on what he had been up to and what he had done to land himself as my roommate. Then we discussed "house rules" and what's expected of him and he understood and agreed. We decided to take him shopping for clothes the next day so we went to bed.
Turns out, we were the same size; all the way down to shoes. We had no problem sharing everything. Shirts, jeans, shorts, underwear, socks, shoes, and sometimes even girls. We kept the apartment pretty tidy, but we'd go in and out of each other's room to grab clothes and we'd do laundry when the hampers got full and just put things away where they'd fit. Eventually, there was no more "is this yours?" Things just got put away and we helped ourselves to each other's closets and dressers and we just had a pile of shoes we'd choose from. It was pretty great.
Fast forward a few months and my cousin is thriving. He's making friends, doing well academically, and we're even going to the gym at our apartment complex together in the evenings. I mention that baseball season is coming up and ask if he has any interest in trying out for the team. He expresses ambivalence because he's a senior, a transfer, and doesn't think he'll make the team. I tell him, "You won't know if you don't try. If you make the team, I'll buy all your gear and go to all your games -- home and away." He says, "All right, I'll think about it."
A few weeks later, he came home elated and tells me he made the team. He said, "I didn't tell you I decided on trying out just in case I didn't make it. I didn't want a pity party. You're already my nanny, I didn't want you to suck my dick just to make me feel better." I laughed and said, "Let me know the next time you're feeling down, and I'll see what I can do to get you up." He said, "Don't make it weird, bro. Let's go get all the shit I'm gonna need for the team."
We went out and got everything he needed and then some. I really didn't want to be in the position of having to wash uniforms every few days for practice. He was pretty stoked and I was happy to see him happy. I knew him joining the team would change things a bit, but I had no idea how much. I mean, I knew his schedule would change, and I was fine with that -- he was really good about sending me a quick text message when he was going out and he always had his phone on and we always shared our locations with each other. We also had an unspoken rule that if our bedroom door was closed, privacy was requested so if I came home and his door was closed, I didn't even announce myself. I knew he was home and he wanted privacy and he probably had a guest. He was very open about our relationship and his past with his friends. He'd say, "I was getting in trouble back home so my parents sent me out here for a new start and my cousin offered to keep an eye on me so here we are."
One day after practice, he came home in a huff, slamming doors, and throwing his bags down. It looked like teenage angst to me. Maybe a case of the Yips. I asked, "Hey, what's wrong?" He said, "Shitty day. I don't want to talk about it. I just want a drink." I said, "Okay... So... Have a drink. I'm not your mommy." He said, "Yeah, okay. As soon as I pour one, you're going to call my parents." I asked, "And go back to paying my own rent and bills? I don't think so. Just don't get in trouble at school and don't get arrested, dipshit." A look of surprise came across his face and he asked, "What the fuck, really? This whole time?" I said, "No, fuckstick. You had to detox all that other garbage out so you could get wasted like a normal kid and not end up in the hospital. Look, I have a bottle hidden in my closet. Go get it and have as much as you want, but if you're gonna puke, do it in your bathroom."
He helped himself and passed out on the couch. I left him there and made sure he got off to school on time the next morning and this went on for a while. He started to open up more and confessed that he wasn't making as many friends as he thought he would and not meeting as many girls as he had hoped, even living the jock stereotype. I did what I could to make him feel heard and understood. Then he said he's tired of jerking off every night.
I asked, "Is that why your shower drains so slowly?" With a confused look on his face he says, "I don't jerk off in the shower. And what are you doing in my shower?" I said, "Calm down, it was a joke. Show me what's so 'boring' about what you're doing." He said, "No way! What the fuck!" I said, "What? You want to describe it? Just show me."
He finishes his drink and reaches down his pants and starts tugging. We're sitting on the couch, and he's looking around the room -- anywhere to avoid making eye contact. After a few minutes I say, "Well, I can see why you're tired of doing THAT every night. You're doing it all wrong," and before he has a chance to respond, I put my hand down his pants and start jacking him off. He tries to back up, but he's already in the corner of the couch and has nowhere to go. He says, "Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?" I said, "I'm jacking you off. I thought that was pretty obvious." He asked, "Are you fucking serious right now?" I said, "About as serious as you are hard. Are you just going to sit there and leave me hanging?" I looked down at my own bulge and back up at him and he said, "I don't know, man. This feels weird." I said, "Just give it a few minutes. Give yourself time to get into it. Grab it."
